Retching in Reykjavik
by Sitchit
Summary: A sickening tale following our favorite villains. Set during the events of Ron Millionaire.


"Retching In Reykjavik"

---

Destruction filled every corner of the room as two bodies were left alone on the floor.

It was worse than the annihilation of a doomsday device. Worse than any damage teen hero Kim Possible had ever done, physically or mentally; it was possibly the most horrifying series of events the two villains had ever had the misfortune to experience.

One of them tried to call out but found no words in her throat. The other lay on his side praying to every being in the universe to save them from this terrible fate.

The sun set with these two writhing in their own misery.

---

_Several hours earlier…_

"Mmmhm, oh, mmm, Shego, you just have to try the foie gras," Dr. Drakken suggested to his cohort with a mouth full of fattened goose liver.

Ignoring her employer's apparent lack of manners, Shego picked up her fork and took a small bite from his plate. A half-lidded smile fell across her face as the delicious food danced across her taste buds.

The two enjoyed their lunch in a high-end restaurant located in the ironically green country of Iceland. The swanky restaurant boasted of not only being the best in Reykjavik, but in the entire northern hemisphere.

They had the prices to back it up.

"Ya know," he explained between chews, "the buffoon may be a buffoon, but he sure knows how to treat his villains right!" He was referring to his ill-gotten funds from the sidekick of his long time teenage foe, Kim Possible.

"Just please Drakken, _don't _be an idiot with this money. You're known for being many things, for example… oafish, dim-witted, bumbling, thick-headed, dense, incompe-"

"Hey!" he interrupted, "I resent that."

"Well you shouldn't," she snapped back. Although he was treating her to lunch she feared that soon he'd be yearning for another incredibly expensive plot of world domination.

"Just be smart about this. Look, we have the kid's money, and it's a _lot_ of money. Kimmie's gonna be having her techno-troll scanning for major spending in the evil genius department."

"Pishaw, Shego!" he retorted, "What do you think I'm gonna do, blow all this money on some crazy plan that will never work?"

The look he received across the table was answer enough.

"Oh c'mon! Gimmie a little more credit than that!"

"Well you're a dullard… look around, we're in the lap of luxury spending money that isn't ours and I'm oh _so_ positive you're just going to jump right back into finishing 'Operation: Waste Tons of Money!'"

He frowned a bit; he was quite partial to his latest plot. She only stiffened her stern look.

"All right, all right! So what do you propose we do?" He offered in consolation.

"Are you actually going to listen?"

He pouted. "Yes."

"The smart thing to do, emphasis on the _smart_, is to just lay low living the high life."

He pondered the idea. He _could_ use a vacation; evil sure did a number on the back.

"All right," He decided, holding his glass up for a cheer, "To the lap of luxury!" She clanked her glass to his with a smile.

"But not because you say so!" he added quickly in hopes to maintain their employer/employee relationship.

She followed with a swift rolling of the eyes.

---

The hotel doors flew open on the beautiful Icelandic afternoon as a gust of wind blew the villainous duo into the building.

"Ahh feel that air Shego, invigorating!" The doctor exclaimed with a twirl.

"That's not the word I would have used," grumbled his assistant following behind, trying to fix her windswept hair while simultaneously trying to balance all of their luggage. "Oh, and thanks for the help lugging all of this stuff."

"Can't hear you!" He shouted back. Turning to the desk clerk he flashed a toothy smile. "We'll take your two biggest rooms right away."

He eyed the blue man suspiciously. "I'm sorry sir, we only have one suite available at the moment."

"Fine, whatever, we'll take it." Drakken said absently.

"Uhm, no we won't!" protested Shego from the back.

He whipped around to face her. "Nnrghh, shush!" He whined, "I'll sleep on the couch!" Momentarily losing his cool he turned back to the concierge.

The man behind the desk raised an eyebrow at the two while cautiously asking "And will you be paying with debit or credit?"

Dr. Drakken slid up to the man and, in what was meant to be a sly voice, said, "we'll be paying in cash and there's an extra 500 in it for you if you don't ask why." He added an extra waggle of his eyebrow to seal the deal.

Shego put her hand to her forehead and yet, to her surprise, the desk clerk took the money with a furtive smile and patted Drakken on the back.

Picking up their luggage he ushered the two to follow him, thoughts of a new plasma TV dancing in his head.

Drakken walked over to Shego and gave her an evil grin. "So Shegizzle, tell me, who exactly is da man, da bomb, da legend?"

"Ugh," she moaned, "please, how long are you gonna keep this up?" She scowled at his pathetic attempt at hip-ness.

"'Till I stop rockin', yo!"

---

"Delightful, you can drop the bags by the bathroom door," he turned an eye to the hotel help, "Thank you, that'll be all."

The man rolled his eyes and sighed as he left. Fingering the 5 bills in his pocket he sadly decided that these two were worth the trouble.

"Best money can buy!" He exclaimed to his cohort in evil.

"This dinky thing?" Shego said as she surveyed the room, flicking at a lampshade.

Dr. Drakken threw his arms into the air in exasperation. "It's a 5-star hotel Shego! What more do you want?!"

She opened her mouth to retort but shut it just as quickly. A look of terror washed over her face. The doctor took it as a sign of defeat.

"Aha! The indestructible Shego is finally at a loss for words!" He laughed. "Oh this is just great, what, cat got your tongue? Hmm?" He prodded her even further.

She merely stood frozen in her place. Her jaw clenched. Her eye twitched.

Dr. Drakken looked on in bewilderment as his sidekick clasped her hands around her mouth and ran off towards the bathroom.

"Shego!" he called out after her, "It's no fun to gloat if you can't hear!" Following her trail he knocked on the door. To his surprise it swung upon, she hadn't closed it completely.

There she was, the woman who he so desperately depended on to carry out his schemes, the muscle behind every complex plan he dreamed up, bent over the toilet in a scene that would replay in his mind for the rest of his life. He felt his stomach lurch as the same illness that had defeated his cohort conquered the scientist.

"Doodles," he cursed, claiming her spot while she flushed the toilet.

The once imminent vision of a woman managed to squeak out a small curse as she fell to the floor, beaten. "…Food… poisoning."

---

The sun could no longer be seen peeking out from behind the curtains. Night had overtaken the city as several hours came and left. The dark hotel room was now only filled with the low whirring of a bathroom ceiling fan and a pair of shallow breaths.

An indolent man lay on the cold tile floor next to an equally indolent woman. He had shed his lab coat and was now only in his undershirt and boxers. The clothes lay limp beside him.

Shego followed in her boss's footsteps, discarding her jumpsuit and borrowing one of his black undershirts. Luckily their luggage was placed by the bathroom door so to reach it only the minimum crawling was needed. The shirt hung well past her waist in a 'fashion don't' that was only acceptable under these conditions. To complete her 'sick-chic' look she had tied her locks back into a messy ponytail; Drakken had claimed to be too weak to continually hold her hair back.

The doctor's body felt like lead. He could feel every atom that composed his being sink into the floor. And in these moments of complete monotony a surge would be sent with such force that he was forced to heave himself up with agility he did not know he possessed as he flung himself forward towards the toilet.

Shego pressed her eyelids closed in a wince. "That's disgusting," she commented in a voice barely audible at the sound of her boss's sickness.

He slid back beside her as he flushed the toilet realizing that his stomach was on a mission to expel everything he had eaten for lunch, and possibly the past 10 years, the same way it had entered.

"Shego?" he asked, eyes fixated on the ceiling fan above him, an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

"Yeah?"

"What if we have to vomit at the same time?" It certainly was a valid question.

She felt herself visibly gag. "I'm already sick, Drakken, don't make me sicker."

"Aiight."

Silence overtook them once again. Shego was continuing her campaign to keep the contents of her stomach where they belong while silently cursing and plotting revenge on the entire cooking staff at the restaurant.

The silence was broken again. "Shego?"

"What?" She was slightly annoyed this time although with her hoarse voice it was hard to notice.

"Can I just finish my plan? I don't think I can handle much more of the high life." He had been considering this alternative the minute he heard the beautiful symphony of sound that was foie gras hitting porcelain.

She paused as she pondered her answer, "Fine… but you have to make me a promise."

"What is it?"

"That you never _ever_ tell _anybody_ about this." She turned her head to look at him.

He looked at her and saw a mirror image of illness across her face. It was a sad sight. "Pinky swear," he declared. Holding out his finger, she intertwined hers.

"Done." Their hands dropped to the floor, pinkies still tangled.

She sighed in peace only to immediately have her face distort in alarm. "Oh no," she exclaimed jumping upward.

Drakken felt his hand be jerked up and into the air as his cohort flew forward towards the toilet. A look of shock washed over him as he grasped the harsh reality of breaking the worst possible news to his sidekick.

Dashing towards that same toilet he called out two words that held more gravity than any others he had said in his lifetime.

"Me too!"

---

Don't tell me you've never been sick before.

Alternate titles:

"Iceland and Ipecac"

"Sick-Chic"

"Laying Low, Living High" 


End file.
